


Absolute

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Established Relationship, It's terrible and I'm sorry, M/M, good intentions and all, or right?, tumblr prompt gone horribly wrong, who really knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'What do you think this is, some sort of game?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [basaltgrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/basaltgrrl/gifts).



> Birthday fic for Basalt, originally posted to the LI73 lj community on December 9, 2015. Crossposted here a few days later because reasons.
> 
> Written because of a tumblr prompt, not what I wanted to get done for her birthday! Beta by Sky, who's pretty damn amazing.

'No,' Sam says, shaking his head. 'Absolutely bloody not – I don't care what you say, I wouldn't let it happen.'

'You say no but what you mean to say is yes,' Gene counters smartly, and Sam rolls his eyes as he sighs, steps sideways and bumps his shoulder hard against Gene's. There'd been an air of certainty to his deputy's words, as if he could do no wrong – and thankfully, when all is said and done, Gene does love a good challenge. He's set for a lifetime, if a challenge is what he needs – seeing as this is Sam he's talking about, after all. Sam, who (to a bloody fault) always thinks he's right.

'What do you think this is, some sort of game?'

'Isn't it though? Always something going on when it comes to you, Tyler – more than meets the eye.'

Gene shoots a glance out over the water, mottled spots of city-light glittering across the dark swath of the canal. He's keeping his thoughts to himself as Sam thinks too much about what he's said, and the lines between, all that he's implied. It's quiet out, even with Sam's thought process roaring along like a locomotive, just the click and shuffle of their footfalls breaking the monotony. There's no one else out, the street otherwise deserted – it's clear that the fine, upstanding folk of their city have other, better things to do at such a late hour.

In a few words, it's nice – it's also rather damp, cool enough with just the slightest breeze, a tickle at the back of his throat. Nice, because it's quiet, and it's dead out, and it's just him and Sam alone to enjoy it all. The truth of the matter is, as often as he's nagged Sam about having to do this sort of thing, Gene doesn't actually mind going on these walks with Sam.

Sam does his own nagging, not that he'd call it that. No, he'd call it sharing his opinion, because this is an open relationship where they happen to be partners – though the way Gene looks at it, it's mostly the same thing. They just have different ways of putting it into words. And Gene – he's double-damned for it, he knows – doesn't really mind that either, though if such a thing was ever vocalised, he'd loudly deny it to the end.

Sam huffs out a sigh, bumps against him once more, pushing a bit harder than he had the first time, just to get Gene's attention. Gene's in a good enough mood to give him what he wants, reaching out to give Sam's shoulder a sharp shove in return. Sam stumbles into the side, comic almost, heels clicking sharply as he regains his footing. Of course, with a tight smirk, Sam shoves right back.

Gene catches Sam's wrist in one hand, tugs him over. 'I could have you on your knees in an instant, Sammy-boy, and don't you say otherwise.'

'Not here you couldn't,' Sam snaps, but his cheek twitches. 'You're not all you think you are, Hunt.'

Gene stops, rolling his eyes. He lets go, and Sam takes a few unsteady steps backwards, stopping only once he's gone out of reach. He's grinning outright now, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket to drive home just how relaxed he is. Gene raises an eyebrow at him. 'That what you think?'

'Duh,' Sam retorts, sarky as ever. 'Wouldn't have said it if it wasn't what I thought.'

'How was I to know? You think too much as it is.'

'You like it when I think too much. Means less work for you.'

' _Less_?' Gene snorts. 'Bloody certain you mean _more_. Waste of time it is, the hoops I end up jumping through because of you.' Sam edges an inch closer. 'How many times have you put me up on a pedestal? Forensics and proper procedure and...' Sam's right in his face now, whisky-sweet breath warm against Gene's lips. Pale, cold moonlight illuminates half of his face, eyes like bright jewels. The urge to trace the path of moonlight down the stretch of Sam's neck is endlessly tempting.

That's always the moment when Gene knows he's lost it, he's in over his head completely when he goes thinking things like that. But he can't help himself, even if he can't name what it is they have – couldn't possibly, even if he spent a hundred years on the task. And, maybe, yes, it's been a mistake in progress, something that never should have happened, not the first sober kiss or their first drunken bout of confessions. The kiss was bad enough. The confessions, oh, that was the noose that hung them both.

What he does know is, whatever it is he has with Sam, it's a bloody good thing.

Gene sighs, aiming for irritated. 'You've not heard a word I've said, have you?'

'Heard that bit.' There's a hint of a smug smirk on Sam's lips as he shakes his head, coy and contrite and not nearly as convincing as he'd like to be. 'Sorry, nope, haven't been paying attention to what you've been saying. Been too busy looking at your lips.'

Gene's chest tightens up, and it scares him some, how he _likes_ it, that there's a _them_. That they have this thing, mistake or not. That they can say these things, nonsense though they might be – that it matters, and even with all the little things Sam's given him, it's left him wanting more and _more_.

He swings a lazy, playful punch at Sam's shoulder, and Sam back-steps out of the way. 'Yeah? That so?'

'Don't know why.' Sam keeps his distance, but he's still smirking. 'Since you're a bastard.'

Gene chuckles, steps in closer. 'A bastard who goes on long romantic walks beside the canal with you, don't you forget.'

Sam steps in closer, they're face to face again. 'I like the walks. Gives me time to think.'

'Time to think? Bloody hell, Tyler, thinking's all you ever do.'

'Could petition someone, I'm sure...' He tilts in, their lips brushing. 'Add a few more hours to the day.' Gene reaches up, tugs Sam close, hand at the back of Sam's neck. Sam opens his mouth to Gene's, chest to chest now. An arm slips around his waist, sliding beneath his coat. Gene's chest tightens, fluid heat. When Sam finally pulls back, Gene's hand slides to his shoulder. Sam blinks, looking half-dazed. 'What were we fighting about?'

'Fighting?' Gene strokes Sam shoulder through the jacket, the various layers of kit. 'Wasn't a fight, Sammy-boy.'

'Oh?'

'The slightest of disagreements, maybe.'

'Yeah? That so?'

'Said that earlier, didn't I?' he says. 'Cause you were so interested in my lips.'

Sam presses back in for another kiss, and Gene's grip tightens at Sam's shoulder. He's a bit breathless when Sam pulls back, this time, and Gene's just as unwilling to let him go. 'If it was something other than that, you'd have wanted to make it into an issue. And if you ended up making it into an issue, then we'd really have to fight.'

There's some more messy kissing, and Gene loves the thrill of it – as much as he knows it could damn them both, has damned them already. 'Oh, right,' Sam says, somewhat absently, when Sam's let him go. 'Because you could have me on my knees in a second, if that's what you really wanted.'

'Yep,' Gene replies, dizzy with how close Sam is, with how hot his lips are. With how he could kiss Sam for a year, and it would never be enough. Sam's smirking now, so wide, so sharp, so dangerously near. Gene could stagger back, or back down, only now he's got a point to prove. 'I could, and I would.'

'Prove it.' It's just a whisper, and it's just as dangerous as the proximity of their bodies.

Gene smirks, and holds his ground. 'What exactly are you getting at, Tyler?'

'If you could have me on my knees in an instant, _prove it_.'

That's hot – too much heat, and all of a sudden, for all the build up has been obvious enough. It's also a dangerously tempting challenge that Sam's posed, and not just because they’re out in public – not that he'd cared too much when they'd just been kissing, but these things do have a way of catching up with a bloke. What goes on behind locked doors is one thing, not to say Gene's not otherwise up for a bit of teasing, of pushing too hard, of wanting too much... That's all it is, with Sam. He's never had such a good thing as his dangerously erratic DI.

'Right,' he says, leaving it at that. He stares at Sam, who's staring back boldly, and Gene tucks his arms behind his back and holds his head high, starts off at a smart, steady pace. His stride oozes confidence, power – he knows just what he's doing here, thank you very much – and it works like a bloody charm, Sam's attention is focused on him completely. A few more bold steps to the left and Gene spins about sharply, making his way to the right. For all he's only _looked_ at Sam, and there's still a glint of challenge in his deputy's dark eyes eyes, there's also the first hint of a crack in the shield of his calm. Sam swallows, once, tensely, gaze stuck to Gene like glue. Gene walks the line again, and he's still just looking at Sam and nothing else, but Sam swallows again, just as tentatively, as nervously as before. Sam's attention wavers as he licks his lips.

'This is taking longer than it's supposed to, y'know.' The sentence is _lacking_ , spoken with a tremble, Sam pausing afterwards and wetting his bottom lip, using just the tip of his tongue. Gene doesn't know if that's Sam just more and more nervous as each suspenseful second passes by, or Sam trying to push right back and failing rather spectacularly, but it's _getting_ to Sam.

Whichever it is, it's got them both of them high on anticipation, and Gene likes it a lot. Gene pivots on one foot, turns sharply, and advances on Sam, further out onto the path. His arms are before him now, he slowly brings his hands together – and then, when he's standing right in front of Sam, when Sam's looking at his tie instead of up at his face, Gene clears his throat.

He loves it when Sam pushes against him, hard. He's certain they both love it when he has to put Sam back in his place. Otherwise, Sam would have learned his lesson by now – he never quite manages _that_. It really is a game, one they both like playing – it's a craving, almost, a base need, something they can't do without.

'Me eyes are up here, Gladys,' and it works a treat, Sam looking up immediately, his dark eyes gone round and wide. He wets his lip again, shaking his head, and Gene smirks as he lifts one hand up to lightly grip at Sam's right ear. Leaning forward, Gene's eyes slip half-shut as he cocks his head to the right, murmuring the next bit directly into Sam's uncovered ear: 'If you know what's good for you, I think you'd best get down on your knees.'

There's an achingly heavy pause – heavy with anticipation – only disturbed by the shudder Sam gives as he exhales. Gene's so close now, his coat brushing against Sam's jacket, the air between them so much warmer than what that you'd find just outside the bubble of their overlapping personal space. Dark eyes flicker sideways, making contact with his own, however briefly, and the slightest grimace creases Sam's face. They look at each other, the bit of challenge turning round into a staring contest, and Sam swallows tensely, once, twice, and that's when it _clicks_.

'Bastard,' he mutters, and the steady mask of his resolve ripples, wavers, _shatters_. He grins and laughs weakly, like he hasn't quite caught his breath. 'How do you do it?' he asks, already sinking downwards. 'The pavement's wet.'

'Not my problem, is it, Dorothy?' Gene takes a step back, just to get a better look at Sam, down on his knees on the rain-slick pavement, looking down at the path, face hidden. 'Look at me,' is what Gene says next, and Sam tenses, but does that, slowly looking up. The moonlight's at it again, one half of Sam's face in shadow, the other half so very clearly lit, and all of him so very lovely to look upon.

Gene stares at him some more, knowing this is just as dangerous as anything else they've done tonight. He should tell Sam the game is off, but he's enjoying himself too much. He's never as surprised as he should be when he sees just how far Sam's willing to go. He'd like to savour it, at least one moment more – he'll never get enough. Sam tilts his head back as Gene strokes down his cheek with one finger, feels the flutter of Sam's breath against his palm as he rests three fingers beneath the curve of Sam's chin.

The moment passes into another. He marvels at the feel of holding Sam in his hand, strokes his way back up his right cheek. He tugs gently at Sam's ear, and Sam gives a soft huff of a laugh as Gene draws his hand away.

'Well,' Sam says, not remorsefully at all, three seconds or so after Gene's let him go. 'Was it everything you thought it'd be?'

Gene smirks, lowering a hand. 'Course it was,' he says, and Sam grabs his hand, grunts softly as Gene helps him to his feet. 'Now, let's get you home.'

'I'd like that, actually. Trousers are soaked through at the knees, for some bloody reason.'

'Ha-ha-ha, as if you could forget why.' Gene staggers back as Sam smiles at him, pressing a hand to his chest. 'Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?'

Sam blinks, obviously confused. 'What – why are you acting like that? I smile all the time!'

'Do not! You grin a whole lot – that shit-eating grin of yours, you know the one – and you bloody well smirk all the sodding time. You definitely don't smile enough, Tyler – and I should know, I've got my eye on you. Always.'

'Might try using both of them instead of just the one, Guv – you can't smirk or grin without smiling. You're cracked.'

Gene shrugs off Sam's attempt to deflect his teasing, but Sam's grinning along with it, so it's clear he knows what's up. 'It's the mood of the thing, Gladys – I'm not suggesting you're a miserable old sod who mopes about like his knackers've fallen off, but if you really _did_ smile as often as you profess to, do you really think I would have been so surprised?'

Sam shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he chuckles. 'I get it, I get it – you can be the mad one tonight. Yes, we've entered an alternate universe – it can be the one where _you_ get down on your knees for _me_.' He takes a few steps away, laughing, as he dodges Gene's wide swing. 'Don't worry though, I wouldn't ask you to do that sort of thing in public. Much rather have at it in private.' He winks, and takes a few more steps back.

'We'll see,' is all Gene says, starting after Sam – Sam, when he notices that, slows down so they're almost shoulder to shoulder again. 'Looking forward to getting shagged that ruddy much?'

'I dunno,' Sam replies smartly. 'Are you?'

Gene ponders his response carefully, but Sam darts off and Gene waits a split second, then breaks into a run to catch up.

–

There's no fanfare as they reach Sam's flat. They're both patient enough as Sam gets the door unlocked, pushing it open for Gene to make his grand entrance. Sam snickers as he shuts the door, lock clicking into place, Gene shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto the bed. He turns about, catches Sam with one glance, and he stops – stands with his back to the door – still in his jacket, cheeks pink from their run. Gene's eyes run down him and then back up again, spotting where the knees of his trousers are just that much darker than the rest of them, thanks to the wet pavement.

'Just let me catch my breath,' Gene says, loosening his tie. Sam nods, leaning back, absently undoing his buttons as Gene tugs off his tie and tosses it to the side. He takes a step towards Sam, just as the leather starts slipping down Sam's shoulders, and Sam waits patiently as Gene bridges the gap between them, sliding his hands down to squeeze at Sam's hips. He arches into it, pressing their trousers together, his mouth descending on Sam's in a hungry kiss. It's the kiss the one out on the street longed to be, luxuriously slow, and Gene's only just properly caught his breath and now he's giving it all to Sam.

It breaks off, bodies still intimately close. They share a look – unguarded, from both of them, something wild and raw awakening in the dark of Sam's eyes, a yearning he feels in the quickening of his own pulse. Just like that, Gene's scrabbling to help Sam get out of his jacket.

It hits the floor, and they're laughing, pushing away from the door, drunk on nothing but each other, on the heat that's running through them. Sam goes down, the mattress groaning and squeaking as he topples onto it, but Gene stops his own fall and takes a step back. There's that open look of Sam's again, just as unguarded, carefully scrutinising Gene as he ponders his next move. It's obvious, he's been waiting for it all along.

There's no moonlight down his neck now, just his flat's dingy light, but that doesn't stop Gene from marvelling at him all the same. He moves closer, stops when he's stood between Sam's legs. Sam sucks a break in, tilts his head sideways, Gene bending and lowering his mouth to run his lips across Sam's skin. He kisses, and he licks, feels the tremor of Sam's pulse and the way his throat contracts as he swallows. When Gene stands back up, Sam's still poised, face canted to the side, eyes closed, lips parted. Gene reaches up and brushes a finger along the curve of Sam's bottom lip, flesh warm beneath the press of his finger, dragging it one way, and then the other.

Sam only turns to look at him as Gene pulls his hand away and shuffles back. He looks so expectant now, eyes gone wide, he's caught up in the moment, quite literally at the edge of his seat. 'Gene...?'

'Shh,' he murmurs. 'Not planning on leaving you hanging, no need for you to worry.'

Sam's got his full attention on Gene now, not that it had been lacking. Gene takes another small step back, but only so he has enough room to carefully drop down to one knee. Sam holds his arm out, and Gene nods sharply as he accepts the assistance. He doesn't say anything, and there's no teasing – it's nothing like what was going on outside on the street. Gene grunts softly and settles down, tilting his head back to look up at Sam.

'Well? Is it everything you thought it would be?'

Sam's mouth falls open, almost immediately snapping shut as he breaks into the biggest, broadest smile Gene's ever seen him give. 'Of course it is.' He leans in, eyes slipping shut as he presses a kiss to Gene's forehead. Gene huffs out a soft sigh, sliding his arms around Sam's waist and giving a tight squeeze, just as Sam's arms come to rest about his shoulders.

'That's the show,' he says, after a healthy enough pause, nose full of sensation, sweat and leather and Sam. Sam sits back, hands come to rest at Gene's shoulder, and Gene looks back up. While one hand does reach up to tease through Gene's hair, Sam doesn't look like he plans on doing much moving beyond that.

'Well? No more dilly-dallying, Tyler.' Gene groans as he shifts from one knee to the other. 'I'm ready to get up.'

Sam chuckles. 'You're not going anywhere unless I let you, Hunt – and I have to admit,' he continues, as that bright smile of his darkens into a much more suitable grin. It really is all dependent on the mood, and the sudden shift sends a ripple of heat and anticipation down Gene's spine. 'I'm really liking the view from up here.'

Gene grumbles, as if that honestly bothers him, just as Sam rests a finger at his chin. Gene would like to say the view isn't so bad from down here, either, but – as Sam carefully caresses his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb – he's somehow sure Sam's just as aware.


End file.
